


cross your fingers and hold your heart

by eirana



Series: The Techie Bible [1]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eirana/pseuds/eirana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wild and wonderful world of high school theatre.  Well, when the offstage antics and romances don't take precedence over the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cross your fingers and hold your heart

~*~

_And thus, shit happens._

~*~

 

“From the top! And this time, don’t close your eyes, Archie. She’s the love of your life! You have to look into her soul. You have to feel a connection with her. You have to—”

“Allison?”

“What?” she snapped, a frown on her face.

“Umm, Katy’s supposed to be dead in this scene, so I can’t look into her eyes. Unless you wanted her to be dead with her eyes wide open, but that’s kind of creepy, and I don’t really want to pretend I’m looking into a corpse’s eyes…” David slowly trailed off when he noticed Allison was staring at him with her eyebrows raised as Katy rolled her eyes at him from her position on the stage. He felt a blush spread across his face. “Never mind. What were you saying, Allison?”

She smiled at him. “Forget it; you’re right. Why don’t you two take a break? I need to talk to Tommy anyway.” With that, she flounced away.

He shook his head as she exited the theatre. Allison Iraheta was certainly a handful, but she was one of the best student directors the school had to offer. She was also one of his closest friends, and working with her was always a memorable experience.

“Look, David, I know Allison’s off her rocker and you’re like her super best friend or whatever, but you can’t argue with the director.”

Working with Katy O’Connell, however…

“I wasn’t arguing; I was giving her my point of view. Allison’s good, but she’s like a mad genius when she gets carried away.” David Archuleta—or Archie as he was known to practically everyone—was infamous for his sweet nature, but even he found it hard to keep his conversations with Katy civil. 

Most of the school was in love with the blonde, blue-eyed senior. She had a list of extracurriculars a mile-long: head of the cheerleading squad, the debate team, class valedictorian. Katy seemed nice—her ambition was both inspiring and terrifying—but there was an icy undertone, something slightly off that made Archie uneasy.

“I believe you,” she said in a tone that meant the exact opposite. “Well, it was a pleasure, David, but I have to be going. Cassidy said he needed me for a fitting.”

Archie watched her go, sighing to himself. Sometimes, he felt like he was the only sane person in Theatre.

~*~

Cassidy spent most of his time fighting the costume room for more space when there was none to be had. The room was relatively large—just not large enough. He only had to squeeze in this last outfit—a red, sequined, feathered mess left over from last year’s musical—and he could pretend that show had never happened. He liked a touch of extravagance and glamour, but there was a classy way to carry it off and there was, well, the _thing_ he was trying to shove into the recesses of the costume room that refused to cooperate. With a triumphant yell, it finally stayed in place on the rack, getting crushed by a faux-fur coat.

“Cassidy?”

“Katy?”

He saw her turquoise heels from underneath a rack that was sitting in front of the door. Cassidy watched the heels go on tiptoe; it didn’t help—the racks were about half a foot taller than she was.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in the back.” He saw the heels start to walk further into the room. “Hold on, don’t move! These racks can be deadly.” With some creative maneuvering—why was there a large stuffed snake on the floor? —he made his way to the door and shifted the rack until he could see Katy. “Hey there. You ready to try on some things?”

“Absolutely!”

He gave her a quick hug then gently guided her into the bowels of the costume room. 

After an hour or so, Cassidy was ready to strangle someone. Preferably Katy. He had nothing against the girl–she was kind of adorable, even if she was like something out of a teen chick flick. Regina George Lite.

She was making some questionable fashion choices. Her little babydoll dresses with their cute patterns and matching accessories were nice–it worked for her–but the dresses she was picking out… They were all empire-waist and some sort of green. The only one that hadn’t been was this shade of red that was almost pink, and while the dress wasn’t that bad, the color was all wrong for her.

When he saw her eying a lime green monstrosity, he gave in to the urge to pull her away from the costume racks. “Sweetie, how about I just pick something out for you?”

Katy looked like she was ready to argue when they were interrupted by a knock on the costume room door.

“Cass? You in here?”

He recognized that voice right away. Cassidy needed to distract her, and _fast_.

“Give me a sec. I’m clothing an actor.”

Cassidy gave a nearby rack a quick glance, picking out a simple sky blue dress. He shoved it into Katy’s hands and pointed a finger at the screen set up in the corner. “Try that on for me, will you? I think it’ll be perfect.”

She pursed her lips into a pout. “You’re awfully eager to get rid of me.”

“Course not. I just need to talk to them. In private.” He paused, frowning thoughtfully. “Well, as private as it can get in this madhouse. Please, Katy?”

She rolled her eyes but nodded anyway, moving towards the screen. “I expect details later.”

“We’ll see.”

Not a chance.

Cassidy stepped out of the room, and just as he thought, Cale Mills was waiting outside for him. The tall, ruggedly handsome senior was one of the most sought-after guys in the school–and he was Cassidy’s. He leaned up for a kiss, but Cale put a finger to his lips, halting him. Cassidy watched him look in all possible directions–including the ceiling–before moving them into a shadowy corner and greeting him with a kiss.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he whispered against Cassidy’s lips.

Well, sort of.

He gave Cale a shy smile in return. “Hi.” 

“Hard at work or hardly working?”

Cassidy rolled his eyes. “I should be asking you the same thing. Aren’t you supposed to be helping the rest of the set crew?”

“Well,” he began with a shrug and charming smile, “I decided sneaking off to do dirty things in the costume room would be a better idea. You’re much more interesting than building a house or carving out a tree from Styrofoam.”

“Styrofoam?”

“One of Smith’s brilliant ideas. Which, in retrospect, is actually pretty brilliant, but it’s such a pain in the ass.”

“Poor baby,” he cooed. “Let me make it all better.”

“Cassidy?”

Both boys let out a frustrated groan, Cassidy burying his face in Cale’s neck. He let out a loud sigh and moved away. “I’m out here, Katy.”

Cale’s eyes widened. “Katy? Katy O’Connell?”

“The one and only,” he replied dryly.

“Shit.”

“Cale?”

“She’s been trying to sink her claws into me since October!”

“Her and most of the other girls at this school,” Cassidy muttered.

“There’s a bit more to it than that.”

“What do you–”

“How does it… Cale?”

She appeared at the doorway, long blonde tresses forming a golden halo around her face. Cassidy felt the irrational urge to rip all her hair out when he heard Cale emit a quiet gasp. He shot her a strained smile in response. “Hi, Katy. Bye, Katy.” He grabbed Cassidy’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “I’ll see you later.” Cale walked away without a backward glance.

Cassidy was hoping that his displeasure wasn’t too obvious. It wasn’t her fault that she came out at the inopportune moment.

“What was that all about?” she asked suspiciously.

“Nothing. He just needed to deliver a message from Smith.” He gave Katy a once-over, nodding to himself. “It looks good, honey. You’re all set now. Thanks for coming in, Katy.”

“No problem, Cassidy. I’m going to get out of this and head home. The girls are coming over to help me plan our next cheer fundraiser.” She shot him a sunny smile and practically skipped back into the room to get changed.

“Right.”

Regina George Lite.

~*~

Cale knew where all the good hiding places were. It was one of the perks of being a techie. He was tempted to just go hide in the shop, but he could hear Tommy’s voice coming from that direction, so that was a no-go. His eyes landed on a blue telephone booth they’d built for a play last year.

Maybe…

Cale walked over to it, little boy grin on his face, and opened the door. His excitement drained out of him when he saw that his hiding spot was already occupied. “Cook?”

The musician grinned unrepentantly at him. “Hey, we’re trying to have a moment here.”

“We?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

A fluffy brown head peered from around Cook’s shoulder. “We,” the other boy said, grinning crookedly.

Cale rolled his eyes at him. “Kris Allen, were you doing unspeakable things to David Cook in this leftover set piece?”

“Maybe,” Cook said, shifting so that Kris was standing in front of him. He trailed a hand down Kris's waist, grinning devilishly when he squeaked and turned bright red.

“Stop groping me!”

“I can’t help it, Allen; you’re too irresistible.”

“Let’s take a moment to stop teasing poor little Krissy and discuss why you’re in here. Together.”

“Could we not have this discussion where people can see us? In fact, why don’t you come in here and close the door so we can have the illusion of privacy?” Kris quipped, squirming in the loose hold David had on his shoulders.

Cale–unfortunately–took him seriously and walked into the booth as well, pulling it shut behind him. Kris was sandwiched between them, and their proximity was such that if anyone saw them, they might get the wrong idea. “How can we all fit in this thing? It doesn’t look that roomy from outside.”

“It’s like the TARDIS, man. Bigger on the inside than it appears on the outside.”

“You’re a nerd for making a _Who_ reference, Cook, and speaking as the body squished between the two of you, this is definitely as roomy as it looks on the outside.”

Cook ruffled Kris' hair–almost taking Cale’s eye out in the process–and laughed loudly. “Dude, you’re tiny! You don’t take up that much space. Plus, I could be doing a whole lot worse than having your ass pressed up against my crotch.”

“Cook!”

“You do have a great ass.”

“Cale!”

They high-fived in triumph.

Kris pouted. “I need to find better friends. You all have too much fun teasing me.”

Cale grinned and pinched Kris' cheek. “You make it too easy, little guy.”

“Asshole.” He leveled a glare at him that was reminiscent of an angry, wet puppy; Kris’ attempts to look menacing never really worked out the way he wanted them to.

“You’re so cute when you try to be intimidating!”

Kris huffed and crossed his arms. Cook chuckled and hugged him from behind, planting a sloppy, wet kiss onto his cheek.

“I love you, Krissy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, leaning forward to rub his cheek against Cale’s shirt.

“Great, now I have Cook’s slobber on my shirt!”

“You wish I’d leave my slobber on you instead of having to get it second-hand.”

“In your dreams, Cook. No one’s drooling over you except that Caldwell chick.”

“You’re one to talk. Polly Pocket has it bad for you. Which is kind of low considering that she and Kris used to be attached at the hip.”

“I am _not_ getting in the middle of this!”

“Actually,” Cale said, moving even closer to Kris, “you are.”

Cook shuffled forward until they were all touching in places that you probably shouldn’t be touching your friends. Then again, Cale and Cook were willing to go to any lengths to embarrass Kris.

“Guys, the wannabe TARDIS really isn’t the right place to try to molest me!”

He wriggled and tried to reach around Cale to push the door open. He grabbed Kris' hands and put them on his waist, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“It’s okay, Kris. We’ll be gentle. If you want us to be, that is.”

Cook snickered when Kris let out a high-pitched squeak. “Relax, man. You know we’re just kidding. The tatters of your virtue will remain intact. Although,” he said thoughtfully, “if you ever wanted us to make a serious offer, it could be arranged.”

“Not funny, David. Not funny at all,” Kris grumbled.

“Okay, seriously, why were you two getting cozy in here?”

Kris grinned. “Well, you see, young David here–” The rest of his words were muffled by Cook’s hand. He rolled his eyes and darted his tongue out to lick at his palm, cringing as the metallic taste of guitar strings filled his mouth.

“Dude!”

At least it worked.

“You’re such a baby,” Kris muttered. He looked up at Cale and pouted. “You got any gum on you?”

The man in question sighed but dug a worn pack of gum out of his pocket anyway, holding it out to Kris. He shook his head and opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue and waggling his eyebrows. Cale rolled his eyes and unwrapped a stick of gum, placing it in Kris' mouth. Kris smiled happily at him and tightened the hands still on Cale’s waist for a hug, nuzzling at his shoulder.

“So. Gay,” Cook said, smirking.

“You’re just jealous,” Cale mock-sneered at him, not even batting an eye at how Kris was cuddling him.

“Kristopher’s certainly delectable–and the most innocent slut I’ve ever met–but I already have my eye on someone else.”

“That’s why we were in here,” Kris added between chews. “And I’m not a slut, fuck you.”

“Thanks for keeping it secret like you said you would. And you’re totally a slut, except you cuddle people to death instead of sleeping with them.”

“I don’t see anyone complaining about me cuddling them to death. And for the record, everyone in Theatre is like that, so ha!”

“Kris, just shut up and keep chewing your gum.”

“You’re both so mean to me,” he said sadly, burrowing into Cale’s neck.

“Oh for- Kris, stop acting adorable for like five seconds so I can find out why the hell you two maniacs were even in here!”

“Don’t make me shut you up in a more direct way, Allen. It won’t end well for you.”

Kris turned around so he could face Cook, rubbing Cale’s stomach soothingly after he elbowed him. “Why can’t you just tell Cale why we were in here? Then he can spill _his_ not-so-deep, not-so-dark secret and it’ll be a nice male bonding moment. And, even better, we can get the fuck out of this booth that was never meant to hold this many people at one time.”

Cook sighed. “Okay, so–”

Cale felt the door behind him give way and they all fell out of the booth and onto the stage floor in a heap. “Damn it!” he growled. He was finally going to know why the two lunatics had sequestered themselves into that small space and some asshole had decided to…

“Am I interrupting something?”

Oh, Cale was _so_ fucked.

“Hi, Tommy,” he said cheerfully, avoiding the dark, intense eyes trying to burn a hole through his head, and simultaneously ignoring the warm, snuggly weight that was Kris on top of him. And Cook’s loud, incredibly creative curses from somewhere upstage.

“You’re supposed to be helping the rest of the crew with the trees.”

“I know.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Not helping the rest of the crew with the trees.”

“So what should you do?”

“Go help the rest of the crew with the trees?”

“Good boy,” Tommy said, lips quirking up slightly.

Tommy was _smiling_. Well, what passed for a smile with him, anyway. Cale was going to go home in tears; he could feel it.

“But, as punishment, I think you’re going to get a special task.”

He sent up a silent prayer for a modicum of mercy.

“Since you don’t want to help out the rest of the set crew, I’m reassigning you. You’re going to be helping Gokey with the props. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

Mercy, apparently, was not meant for Cale Mills. “Fun. Yeah.”

“Good.” There was that Tommy smile again. Twice in the past five minutes. That sadistic bastard.

Cale resigned himself to his fate and tried to stand up when he remembered that, oh yeah, there was a Kris Allen using him as a human teddy bear. “Kris, do you think you could get off me?”

“Hmm?” He looked up from where he’d buried his face in Cale’s neck, startled. “Oh! Sure, sorry.” He scrambled up and held out a hand to help Cale up. For a little guy, Kris was strong. He sighed forlornly, glancing over at Cook who was holding a hand to his head and muttering violently under his breath. The fall out of the wannabe TARDIS hadn’t been kind to Cook at all. As Cale walked away, Tommy called out to him.

“Have fun with Gokey!”

Tommy Joe Ratliff was the most sadistic stage manager to ever walk the earth.

~*~

Outwardly, Tommy was as unreadable as ever. On the inside, he was laughing maniacally at the pained look in Cale’s eyes as he walked away and the way his shoulders stiffened whenever Gokey’s name was mentioned. Being Stage Manager was so very nice. Especially when it gave him opportunities like this.

“Tommy!”

He almost fell over from the force of Kris' embrace. For someone so tiny–Tommy was _slightly_ taller, thank you very much–he packed a lot of power. “Hi, Kris.”

“I missed you!”

He felt Kris bury his face in his shoulder and sighed. He was also the most affectionate person Tommy had ever met. “You saw me a few hours ago.” He wrapped his arms around Kris and felt him smile against his neck, knowing that was Tommy’s way of saying he missed him too.

“I know, but I still missed you,” he said, smiling up at him. If Kris was a puppy, his tail would be wagging right about now.

“Did you finish all your work?”

“Yep. I even took a minute to help Gokey out. The poor guy was almost in tears. It was really unfair of you to make him the Props Crew Head. You know that Props is always a disaster, especially for a first-timer.”

An affectionate ruffle of Kris' hair. That slight quirk started to resemble a small smile. “The ever helpful Kris Allen, saving the asses of techies everywhere. Gokey’s a smarmy bastard. I thought it’d be a learning experience for him.”

“Lay off him, Tommy. He’s actually a really nice guy once you get to know him. A little socially awkward, but this is high school. What do you expect?”

“You’re too nice.”

“You think everybody’s too nice.”

“But you especially.”

He stepped back, giving Kris a look at the pout overtaking his face and the arms that refused to release him. “Kris, I have Stage Manager things to do. That means you have to let go of me.”

“But, Tommy,” he whined.

“Don’t even start, or I’m going to leave you here without a ride home.”

“You wouldn’t,” Kris said softly, crooked little grin on his face.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t,” he admitted with a shrug. “But don’t tell anyone. It’d ruin the ‘all tremble before the mighty Stage Manager’ thing I’ve got going on.”

“You two do realize I’m still here, right?”

Kris and Tommy looked over at Cook who was lying spread-eagled on the stage, an arm thrown over his eyes.

“Oh! Cook! Are you okay?” Kris ran over and knelt beside Cook, fingers gently prodding at the sizeable lump on his head. “I’m sorry, I forgot.”

He lifted up his arm to glare at Kris. “You forgot I was lying on the stage in unspeakable agony? I see how it is, Kris. As soon as another guy comes along, you forget all about me.”

Kris' bottom lip quivered and Tommy’s inscrutable expression morphed into a glare. “Stop being a jerk, Cook. Do you really want to be responsible for making Kris look sad? You know someone will come after you if they see him sulking on that couch in the green room.”

With that, Tommy walked away, leveling a dark scowl at Cook that made him shudder. He’d forgotten something very important: the quickest way to get on Tommy’s bad side was to upset Kris and/or Archie. Actually, come to think of it, that applied to the entire theatre company.

“Kris, you know I’m kidding. You’re too in love with me to ignore me.”

Kris merely smirked at him. “That was just to remind you that people are willing to kill for me.”

“You evil little bastard,” Cook said in wonder. “You act all sweet and loveable and get everyone to fall in love with how adorable you are, but in reality, it’s just so that if anyone crosses you, you have an army ready.”

Kris smacked him on the chest–hard. “Don’t be like that. Let me take a look at this bump on your gigantic head.”

After a few more minutes of tender prodding and some questions, Kris pronounced that the bump would disappear in a few days; the only thing damaged was Cook’s ego. They stayed there in a tense silence until Cook reached for Kris' hand and held it, stroking the guitar-calloused fingers with his own.

“You deserve to have an army ready to attack the idiots who hurt you.”

“You old softie,” Kris teased, leaning down to kiss Cook’s forehead.

“If I wasn’t already crazy about a certain someone, I’d probably seduce you.”

“Too bad you fail at seduction and I’m not interested in you.”

“How about you use me as a contingency plan? If we’re both still single and bitter at forty, your ass is mine.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be bitter enough to resort to such drastic measures.” He tweaked Cook’s nose. “But thanks for the offer, Cookie.”

“You know I hate it when people call me Cookie.”

“And yet you continue to let me,” he pointed out.

“It’s because of your girlish figure. It’s not natural for a guy to have curves like yours; it confuses us. Why do you think we’re all so willing to let you drape yourself all over us?”

“That almost hurt, Cookie.”

“You’re not going to stop calling me Cookie, are you?”

“Got that right, Cookie.”

“Annoying ass.”

“You like my ass.”

“Got that right,” he said, pinching said ass and laughing heartily when Kris squeaked and fell over, landing on top of him. He moved his hands down to Kris' ass and squeezed, laughing even harder as Kris moved off of him and punched him on the shoulder. Cook rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his hands, still laughing. Kris pouted and smacked him on the back, grinning smugly when he let out a pained groan.

“Guess who’s back, bitches!”

They turned to look at the doors to the lobby where a slender, petite figure stood. Kris squinted, holding up an arm to block out the stage lights. A bright smile spread across his face when he recognized the new arrival. “Brad!” He leapt off the stage and ran down the aisle to the doors, picking him up by the waist and spinning him around for a hug.

“Put me down, you uncouth oaf!” Brad exclaimed indignantly, but he was laughing all the while.

Kris complied but slung an arm around his shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t visit my favorite techie?”

“I thought you weren’t coming back to this ‘god forsaken shit hole’ ever again.”

Brad shrugged. “I spoke too soon. Plus, I might have missed some of you.” He pecked Kris on the cheek. “So, what madness is Smith planning now?” he called back to him as he walked further into the theatre. Kris hurried after him.

“We’re performing an original musical. Smith said it’d show the community the value of art programs in education.”

“He couldn’t get any of his choices cleared, could he?”

“Nope,” Kris replied, smirking. “It’s still a good idea though. The cast isn’t that big. We’re doing a bigger production in February.”

“What are you doing?”

“ _Grease_ ,” Kris said with a grimace.

“Thank god I graduated this god forsaken shit hole last year and don’t have to suffer through that.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. Tell me more about this original musical.”

“Like I said, the cast isn’t that big. There’s only ten of them. It was composed mainly by our very own David Cook,” he said with a flourish at the prone musician onstage.

“Greetings to you, David.”

“Bradley,” he said somberly.

Brad gracefully climbed onto the stage and stared down at Cook. “Get up and give me a hug, you lazy bum,” he said imperiously.

Cook groaned as he stood up, giving Brad a hug that looked more like he was using him for support to remain standing. Considering that Brad was shorter than Kris and not as muscled, it was probably a bad idea.

“I said give me a hug, not lean on me and make me fall on my ass.”

Definitely a bad idea.

“Sorry, pretty boy. Hope I didn’t damage your goods.”

“I’ve been through worse,” Brad retorted.

Kris clambered onto the stage to join them. “Cookie’s already been injured once today. I don’t think he can take anymore abuse.”

“Cookie? The last time I called you that, you gave me my own moniker.”

“The difference being” he said as he pulled Brad up, “that you don’t mind being called Cheeks, and when I hear ‘Cookie’, it makes me twitch uncontrollably.”

“You let Kris call you that.”

“People make exceptions for Kristopher. Just look at his little face,” Cook cooed, taking Kris' face in his hands and squishing his cheeks.

“You’re not funny at all, Cook,” Kris said with a pout.

“Seriously! It’s not just me. Everyone agrees that you’re adorable. Am I right or am I right, Brad?”

“It helps that you’re a cuddle whore.”

“Why do all of you keep saying that?”

“Because it’s true. It’s like you were made for hugging.”

“I hate you. All of you.”

Brad put on his most charming smile. “Does that mean that you won’t go to dinner with me for old times’ sake?”

“Are you paying?”

“Techies,” he muttered. “Always thinking with their stomachs.”

“Because we do more work in a day than you actors do in a month,” Kris said teasingly. “It’s okay; I still like you.”

“Only when I feed you.”

“I’m a techie,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Right. You in, Cook?”

“Will you pay for me too?” he asked with a smile.

“You’re on your own.”

“But you’re paying for Kris.”

“People make exceptions for Kristopher,” Brad said smugly.

“Oh, making me eat my own words. How clever. I can’t go anyway. I need to talk to someone before I get the hell out of here.”

“Oooh, gossip! What poor unfortunate female have you set your eyes on?”

“Who said it was a female?” Cook said as he jumped off the stage and walked towards the doors.

“Wait, what? David Roland Cook, you can’t say something like that and not spill! David! David, get your pasty white ass back here _right now_ and give me details!”

The last thing they saw was Cook flipping him off in response before the doors closed behind him.

“I forgot what an annoying little shit he was,” Brad said fondly.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Give me answers, not platitudes, Kris.”

“I promised I wouldn’t say anything.”

Brad let out a loud sigh. “God forbid I make Kris Allen a liar.” At the pout starting to form on Kris' lips, he pulled him in for a tight hug. “Don’t make that face or no one’s letting me walk out of here alive.”

“Stop exaggerating.”

“You underestimate your lovability, honey.” He kissed Kris' cheek and grabbed Kris' hand, tugging him towards the exit. “So, is that a yes on dinner? We need to catch up.”

“Definitely. Just let me tell Tommy he doesn’t need to give me a ride home.”

“How is Mr. Almighty Stage Manager these days?”

Kris grinned. “Same as ever. He’s trying to break in his successor. I don’t know how well that’s working out. Allison’s as stubborn as he is.”

“That must be fun to watch.”

Kris giggled. “You know how Alli is. She’s in your face with her crazy. Tommy likes to lull you into a false sense of security with his eternally bored expression before unleashing it on you. The main thing is that Allison is good at what she does, and she and Tommy have a similar work ethic, even if their personalities differ.”

Brad watched him ramble on with a warm smile. “Don’t tell anyone, but I actually miss all you losers.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”


End file.
